


Solemn Duties & Sacred Rituals

by inquisitor_tohru



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Awkward Sexual Situations, Blood Magic (Dragon Age), Dragon Age: Origins Quest - Morrigan's Ritual, F/M, Grey Warden Stamina, Hair-pulling, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Licking, Ritual Sex, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, smutty character study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 04:01:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26346775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/pseuds/inquisitor_tohru
Summary: Somewhere along the way, and against all odds, he and the witch had actually begun to enjoy what was supposed to have been a solemn duty or a sacred ritual, depending on one's point of view.
Relationships: Loghain Mac Tir/Morrigan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19
Collections: We Die Like Fen 4: We Lived to Die Afen





	Solemn Duties & Sacred Rituals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ziskandra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziskandra/gifts).



Loghain watched from the bed as the witch prepared some kind of potion or tincture with fresh herbs and sticky, red blood. He did not ask what it was for. He didn't need to know and, frankly, he preferred not to. When she was done, she took out a slim dagger. 

"Don't worry," she sighed, as if she'd somehow sensed him raise an eyebrow, "this won't be going anywhere near your cock." Loghain hadn't even thought of that and he almost laughed, before he realised she hadn't said anything about his  _ balls. _ Or any other body part, for that matter. As if this hadn't already been awkward enough. Morrigan coated the dagger with the strange reddish-green paste before she approached the bed, still holding it. 

He continued to watch with some amusement as she went on to press its tip into one of the wooden floorboards, proceeding to carve a perfect circle around the bed. Loghain rather looked forward to seeing Eamon's expression upon discovering the damage, even if he did normally take Fereldan rules of hospitality more seriously. Well, it was Morrigan's doing, not  _ his.  _

After checking the proportions and muttering something to herself, she climbed onto the bed beside him, already stripped down to her greying smallclothes (not that his own were any more inspiring). He found himself glad at least she hadn't dressed up for the occasion, lacing herself into one of those Antivan leather corsets or, even worse, Orlesian silk knickers. He recalled, with some fondness, a time Celia had donned a pair of frilly pink ones as a jest of sorts, but Loghain pushed that memory aside for now - it wasn't the time or place to dwell on it.

He was already hard after sipping another of the witch's potions earlier. He hadn't been entirely thrilled about that, but whatever was in it couldn't be any worse than the congealing darkspawn blood he'd downed during his Joining ritual. Besides, that fool Crow he'd hired once upon a time had cheerfully gulped down a couple of mouthfuls of the homebrewed aphrodisiac (to the other Warden's delight) and hadn't dropped dead, which was always an encouraging sign. Unfortunately it had meant he'd been lying on the bed with an almost painful erection while he waited for Morrigan to finish whatever she was doing, but that had seemed far preferable to stroking himself, or having her nimble fingers wrapped around his cock. Although right now, admittedly, that didn't seem like such an awful idea.

Morrigan pulled his tattered underwear down without ceremony, and Loghain reached out to steady her hips as she clambered on top of him, his cock sliding into her slick cunt, almost too easily. He'd wondered if she'd partaken in the potion herself, and now he had his answer. At least this shouldn't take  _ too  _ much longer than either of them were comfortable with.

That's what he'd assumed anyway. 

Morrigan had to have been riding him for at least half an hour, had at least three orgasms, and was beginning to tire, while he chased after a release that seemed to slip further and further away.

"My, my, Tehrn Loghain, you're just full of surprises," Morrigan whispered as she leaned forward to catch her breath. "Is this that infamous 'Grey Warden Stamina' I've heard so much about? 'Tis not often one finds a man with such... _ vigour."  _ He'd dismissed such rumours as silliness when he'd heard Cailan joking about it once with Duncan, who had remained quiet on that particular subject, preferring to discuss fortifications on that occasion. Perhaps it was simply that all the hours and days and weeks spent in his heavy armor had kept him in decent shape.

Loghain rolled, flipping Morrigan onto her back, affording her only a moment's respite before fucking her hard and fast against Eamon's old, lumpy mattress. Somewhere along the way, and against all odds, he and the witch had actually begun to enjoy what was supposed to have been a solemn duty or a sacred ritual, depending on one's point of view. There would be plenty of time for guilt-filled reflection about that later, but for now he cupped one of Morrigan's breasts with calloused fingers, running the tip of his tongue over her stiff, pink nipple. His other hand reached down between her thighs, rubbing at her swollen, oversensitive clit.

She gasped, drawing out a low, guttural sound as she gave his hair a good, hard tug. Her hips bucked up into his as she climaxed again, fingernails scraping against his scalp when she grabbed another fistful of hair. Loghain squeezed her breast, gently pinching the nipple between his teeth as she rode out her orgasm and he  _ finally _ approached his own, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more frenzied. The bed frame was creaking louder than any bed frame ought to, and he could have sworn he felt one of the wooden slats snap beneath the mattress as he came, his whole body shaking with the sheer force of it. Morrigan's nails dug into his hips, aligning their bodies just so, and keeping him exactly where she wanted him as he spilled himself inside her. The kiss she pressed upon his lips was perhaps more unexpected than everything else that had transpired that afternoon.

"Perhaps," Morrigan said, a wicked grin upon her lips, while curious fingers started to unpick one of his braids, "we ought to try again when you're ready. Just to make  _ sure, _ of course." Loghain chuckled softly. Being propositioned not once, but twice, by a young, raven-haired witch of the wilds when the world was about to end sounded like the sort of thing that should have happened to someone like  _ Maric.  _ Not him. Never him.

"I'm afraid I must decline - I'm not as young as I used to be, and still have battles to fight before the day is done." When Loghain hauled himself off the bed and to his feet to retrieve his clothing, Morrigan simply shrugged, flopping back onto an Orlesian-style pillow that he'd failed to notice earlier. In his defense, he'd been more than a little distracted.

"Your loss." Loghain smiled wryly as he caught his reflection in one of his polished silverite gauntlets. 

He would see to it that there would be no more losses that day.


End file.
